As The Flood Moves In
by ournoisyhearts
Summary: A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. Final installment in the Nick!POV 'verse. Nickbastian. Slight trigger warning.


**As The Flood Moves In**

_You left my soul bleeding in the dark  
So you could be king  
The rules you set are still untold to me  
And I lost my faith in everything_

* * *

This thing with Sebastian is starting to become problematic.

He talks more. They'll happen to be in the dorm room at the same time, working on homework or passing the time with some other mindless activity, and Sebastian will begin speaking about anything and everything. He'll bring up how difficult his last calculus test was, or the lack of skill the lacrosse team seems to be exhibiting this year, or the rain storm that's supposed to roll in the next week. Nick hadn't taken Sebastian as much of a conversationalist, and the sudden effort to be friendly throws him off a bit.

Not that he doesn't like it. In fact, he feels a strange sort of self-satisfaction that Sebastian tells him all of these things, that he finds Nick worthy enough to expose him to his rants and complaints. The knowledge is carefully tucked away and stored with every other piece of his roommate that Nick has recorded. It still gives him a kind of pleasure to focus so much attention on Sebastian, and luckily, the boy chooses to take it in stride, entertaining Nick's curiosity with nothing more than an arched brow every time he catches him looking. It's nearly a game, at this point; how much can Nick learn about Sebastian before he's called out on it?

Surprisingly, Sebastian's sparked interest in conversation has yet to stray towards the subject of Blaine. Nick honestly doesn't know why. He's overheard Sebastian on the phone with the other boy a multitude of times, caught him grinning down at a text message on more than one occasion, and he had just assumed that things were going well in that regard. If he's being truthful with himself, then he probably tries to avoid thinking of Blaine and his place in Sebastian's life as much as possible. The awkward clench in his gut whenever he remembers that, oh, he _did_ encourage Sebastian to try things with Blaine, isn't exactly a welcome sensation.

Problematic may even be an understatement.

_Huck Finn_ is a constant presence on Sebastian's bedside table. The spine is even more worn, now, with new pages folded down and indents from Sebastian's fingertips on the cover. Each time Nick catches a glimpse of the book, watches as Sebastian's eyes scan across the pages, he's overcome with a feeling that he can't quite describe, a tightness developing in his chest and leaving him floundering. He doesn't have the words anymore to name his emotions, to put a label on the things he associates with his roommate. Curiosity? Fondness? Friendship? Affection? Attraction?

If anything, Nick doesn't _want_ to label things. He's too afraid that labels will make whatever he's feeling more _real_, and that reality will only lead to pain or unwanted drama for both of them. Sebastian is finally somewhat happy, and Nick hovers uncertainly on the periphery, desperate to maintain that happiness for as long as possible. It's almost cliche- if you care about someone, you make sure that they're happy. Your own feelings are second priority. And Nick supposes that's what he's doing, has told himself that he's willing to make the sacrifice, but there's the part of him that's still craving something _else._

When they part for spring break, Sebastian simply gives him a lopsided grin and a wave before he heads out the door, and the only thing that comforts Nick is the sight of _Huck Finn_ sticking out of the side pocket of his roommate's duffel. He packs his own things slowly after that, folding a few shirts haphazardly and shoving them into his bag without much thought. His mind, as usual, centers on Sebastian.

Always Sebastian.

His mom can instantly tell that something is off as he walks in the front door that evening, the smell of her famous spaghetti wafting in from the kitchen. She stands in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dishrag, while Nick allows his bag to fall from his shoulder and shoots his mother a weak smile.

"Hi, mama."

"Oh, Nick," she says softly, closing the distance between them and reaching up to touch his cheek. Her smooth fingers graze his skin, and Nick releases a long sigh, the feeling of being _home_ washing over him in a way that he hasn't experienced in a long while. "What's going on?"

They move back into the kitchen, Nick taking a seat at the table and launching into his explanation as his mother tends to the stove, watching over the pasta and nodding and humming in all the right places as Nick speaks. It feels good to have someone who just _listens_, and the words continue to stream from Nick's mouth without pause as he describes Sebastian and his elusiveness, his personality quirks, his physical traits. Nick tells his mother about Blaine, and the slushie, and admits shamefully that he had gone along with the plan despite his knowing better. By the time he has run out of things to say, the yard outside the back door is completely dark, lit only by the moon and the pool of artificial light shining out the kitchen window. His pasta bowl sits empty, long since eaten clean, and his mother is perched across from him, her mouth pursed thoughtfully as she turns over everything Nick has just said in her mind.

Finally, after what seems to be a weighted moment of silence, she murmurs, "I think we both know how you feel about this boy, baby."

Nick's throat is suddenly uncomfortably dry, the statement along with the loving pet name causing him to struggle for a reply. "Mama..."

"He's not going to be that for you right now, though," she adds gently, and all Nick can do is nod. The statement isn't meant as a harsh one; it's simply the truth. "All you can do is be a friend."

"I'm trying," Nick answers honestly, and then his mom is enveloping his larger hand in her own and giving it a light squeeze. He looks up, and she smiles softly, running her thumb along his knuckles.

"Things will fall into place if they're meant to. For now, doing what you can is more than enough."

Blinking away the moisture that suddenly prickles at the backs of his eyes, Nick gives her the most grateful look he can muster. "Thanks, mama."

* * *

The week passes slowly. Nick attempts to occupy himself with the Latin project he has due the day he returns from break, with helping his mother around the house and re-organizing the crowded bookshelves in his bedroom. Every once in awhile, he'll come across a book, add it to the large stack of novels he plans on giving to Sebastian upon their return to Dalton. At the top of the pile is _War and Peace_ and the _Odyssey_, and Nick even throws in _To Kill A Mockingbird_ for good measure. And right before he moves a book to the stack, he'll flip open the front cover and leave a small inscription, some random quote that seems relevant at the time. The majority of his spring break passes in this way, and by the time he returns to school, his bags are weighted down with books and his thoughts are _still_ consumed by Sebastian.

The conversation with his mother has soothed his anxiety slightly. Her advice is always there in the back of his mind, and he clings to it, holds fast and tries to tell himself that it's for the best. Pushing open the door to his dorm takes five minutes longer than it should, his stomach tensing in anticipation, and he begs with himself to just _act normal_.

But when he steps inside, Sebastian is nowhere to be seen.

It's already close to dinner time, and classes start up at precisely eight o'clock the next morning. Normally, Sebastian returns a day or so early due to sports practices, and his absence has Nick immediately feeling wary. He moves lethargically over to his own side of the room and deposits his things on his bed, carefully pulling out the stack of novels he's collected and turning to place them next to Sebastian's pillow.

It's all he can do for now.

* * *

Sebastian isn't in class the following day.

Nick is worried. He tries to calm his nerves, to convince himself that it's fine for people to ditch once in awhile, but it doesn't work. The rest of the Warblers seem confused as well, even Hunter, who makes as if to call practice to order when he suddenly stops and glances around in bewilderment.

"Where's Smythe?" He demands, and there's no answer.

Nick orders himself to keep breathing.

As soon as rehearsal is over, he takes the stairs two at a time, climbing up to the second floor and walking briskly down the hall to his room. His fingers are shaking as he sticks his key into the knob and forces the door open, and then he is stopping, frozen in place.

He vaguely remembers screaming. At least he thinks it's his own voice that's making the noise, but it's hard to be sure, because his mind feels as if it's detached itself from his body and his eyes are stinging and his chest feels so tight that he can't _breathe_. And then there's the appearance of Jeff and Thad in the doorway, having rushed down the hall at the racket, but Nick can hardly notice them because Sebastian is passed out on his bed with a pill bottle a few inches away from his limp hand and there's so much _blood_-

Nick hunches over and vomits, coughing and gasping with the image of his roommate laying pale and unconscious burning behind his eyelids, and Jeff yells desperately for Thad to call 911. Then he is pushing past Nick, dropping down to Sebastian's side and shaking him, calling out his name in a pleading voice. Nick's mind is hazy, as if he can't fully comprehend the situation, but he dimly remembers the EMTs arriving and Jeff and Thad dragging him out of the room, and everything blurring together after that. His stomach knots and his body trembles uncontrollably, and Jeff is speaking but Nick isn't listening. Sebastian was supposed to be _better_, dammit, not regressing back to this, which is so much fucking worse. And Nick was supposed to have noticed if he _hadn't_ been improving, and this is all his fault-

He calls his mother that night from the hospital, sobs hysterically into the phone from his place on one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room and repeats Sebastian's name brokenly into the phone. Jeff refuses to part from his side, sits stoically next to him and simply allows Nick to clutch his hand in a vice grip as the people hurry back and forth in front of them, and when Nick's mother arrives she shoots Jeff a fiercely thankful look before drawing a wrecked Nick into her arms.

The evening drags on uneventfully.

There is no news. The secretary asks briefly if Nick knows of any family they could call, as those listed on file aren't picking up, and he shakes his head dully. Even if he did know of someone, he doubts they would show.

He curls up in his chair between Jeff and his mother, drawing his knees up to his chest and clenching his fingers in the fabric of his slacks, his blazer abandoned on the floor at his feet. Absentmindedly, he hears Jeff and his mother speaking in hushed tones over his head, but he tunes them out and squeezes his eyes shut. Sebastian has to be okay. He _has_ to.

Late night fades into early morning, and Jeff has dozed off at his side, head of blonde hair tipping down onto Nick's shoulder. Nick's own eyes are drooping, sore from crying and remaining open for so long, but he can't turn his brain off long enough to get any rest. The shock, the panic is still too dense, and he finds himself glancing over at his mother, who has managed to nod off in her own chair as well.

He is alone.

Is that what Sebastian had felt like? So completely and utterly alone, so isolated, that he didn't matter anymore? Nick loathes the thought. He almost loathes Sebastian a bit, in that moment, because Nick had told him time and time again that he _wasn't_ unimportant. That he mattered, that he was cared for.

And Sebastian hadn't listened.

He never fucking listened.

The next few hours pass with Nick mentally cursing his roommate. He's just- he's so _angry_, both at Sebastian and at himself. Because maybe if he had tried harder, had been better himself, then Sebastian would be fine right now. He wouldn't have resorted to- to _this_.

"Stop. Stop blaming yourself," Jeff murmurs. The daytime has arrived, and Nick's mother has left in search of breakfast for the three of them, leaving Nick alone with his best friend. He is still irrationally mad at himself, and Jeff's words don't help much.

He just needs to Sebastian to be okay.

"I'm not-" Nick croaks, but the look Jeff gives him immediately silences him.

"You are. I can tell. But you couldn't have known, Nick. Sebastian's good at hiding when something's wrong, and I know you think you've grown able to see through him, but the worst things are always the best hid."

Nick wants to listen to Jeff, he does. Because deep down, he knows his friend is right- there was no way he could have stopped this from happening, if Sebastian was already that far gone.

But he wishes he could have tried.

There remains a frightening lack of news on Sebastian's condition until a good two hours later, when a woman in a long white coat walks over to them, a clipboard grasped in her hands. "You all are here for Sebastian Smythe?"

Nick straightens instantly in his seat, his eyes growing painfully wide and his throat closing up as he forces himself to nod. Beside him, Jeff snags his hand once more and squeezes it, and his mother ends up having to speak for the three of them.

"My son, Nick, is Sebastian's good friend and roommate at school," she explains, and Nick has never been more grateful for his mother than he is in that moment. "How is he doing?"

"He's awake," the doctor responds, and Nick feels his entire body deflate, the relief so absolutely overwhelming that it's as if the energy has all been sucked out of him, and he can finally _breathe_ again. Sebastian is awake. He's awake, and breathing, and Nick is still pissed as hell at him, but he's _alive_.

Thank god.

"Since his family are out of contact, I'll need you to fill out what you can," the doctor continues, and Nick's mother accepts the proffered clipboard with a short nod. "We'll have to keep him for another night, be sure that his cuts are healing properly and take him in for a psychological analysis. Were any of you aware that Mr. Smythe was experiencing suicidal urges?"

At that, Nick can't do anything but wince, because _no_, he hadn't been fucking aware, and if he had, they wouldn't be here right now.

Jeff and his mother usher him down the hall by himself, insisting that he be the first to visit, and Nick forces down his irritation and uncertainty in order to follow the doctor to Sebastian's room. The white walls and pungent, sanitized smell of the hospital around him have Nick swallowing in trepidation as they approach the door, and then the doctor is motioning for him to enter, and he is faced with Sebastian.

Sebastian, who looks strikingly pale and gaunt against the stark color of the bed sheets. His forearms are wrapped tightly, an IV strapped into his skin, and it takes everything in Nick not to turn right back around and leave, run until he can't run anymore.

His roommate is positively exhausted. The dark rim around his eyes does nothing, however, to hide the surprise that fills his expression when he looks up tiredly and spots Nick, who shuts the door quietly behind himself and then hovers a few feet away from the bed, arms wrapped around his midsection.

"How long have you been here?" Sebastian asks, and his voice is rugged and hoarse, but it's still _Sebastian_.

Nick has the sudden urge to cry again.

"Since I found you, you fucking _asshole_," he croaks in response, collapsing into the plastic chair next to Sebastian's bed and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He simply stares at his roommate, and Sebastian looks back, his gaze taking on a kind of apology that Nick desperately doesn't want to see right now.

"You were supposed to be getting better." Nick's voice is hardly above a whisper, and he scrubs furiously at his eyes as he drops his head.

The silence between them is suffocating, and Nick can feel the ache spreading throughout his chest, a crushing weight on his lungs that has him gasping for breath. He curls in on himself, hunching forward and burying his face in his hands, as he listens to the steady beep of Sebastian's heart monitor, the rustling of sheets as his roommate adjusts himself before speaking.

"Nick..." Sebastian starts, then stops. They both seem to catch the significance of the moment, Nick's stomach threatening to crawl up his throat, and he hesitantly lifts his head once more, knowing how raw and bloodshot they must be.

"You've never-" The words tangle together, fight amongst themselves to escape his mouth. "You don't use my first name."

"Nick," Sebastian repeats, and his features are sunken, regretful in a way that Nick hasn't seen before. "I'm sorry."

And Nick breaks down.

His shoulders begin to shake, and then there are tears leaking out of his eyes, smearing across his palms as he covers his face and cries into his arms. It may be the exhaustion, or perhaps the reality of the situation is finally catching up to him, but it is in that moment that he realizes that it really doesn't _matter_ what he does. He will never, ever be enough for Sebastian. He might be enough for a day, or even a week. He might be able to get Sebastian to smile for a split second, but he'll never be able to take away the pain completely, to erase his past or his problems. Eventually, Nick will have to give up, or Sebastian will give up first. Nothing and no one can stop his downward spiral; can make things okay again.

And the realization _hurts_.

"I- I found you, do you get that?" Nick chokes out. "You were just...gone, and I was so scared, Sebastian. I thought it was _my_ fault. Because if anyone should have noticed, it was me. I noticed everything except the one thing that really, truly mattered. And that fucking kills me."

"Why are you so desperate to keep everyone at arm's length? Why didn't you get help? Why didn't you _let me in_?" He's angry, now. The hatred is back full-force, hatred for what Sebastian has chosen to do to himself, and Nick is livid, has to resist the urge to punch Sebastian in his stupid, tragically beautiful face. "What about Blaine? Is this because of him? You told me you didn't want pity- well, I fucking _pity_ you now, Sebastian. I pity your inability to trust, I pity your self-hatred, I pity the fact that you had isolated yourself so much that you thought death was the best option."

He can't look at Sebastian, can't see through the emotion clouding his gaze, and he doesn't want to. Each word tastes acidic, like venom on his tongue, and he doesn't notice when it happens, but he is on his feet, fists clenching at his sides, and then he just deflates, the ability to care leaving him in one fell swoop.

"I left you some books. Read them or not, I don't give a fuck." Nick spins on his heel, pauses on his way out the door. "Goodbye, Sebastian."

* * *

He doesn't stay in the dorm room. It still smells of loneliness and blood and pain and _Sebastian_, so he throws together some things and then migrates down the hall to Jeff and Thad's room, where they set him up with a pile of blankets on the floor and simply let him be. And Nick is thankful, because he's not sure he can answer anyone's questions right now.

When he sleeps, all he sees is Sebastian's body, lax atop his bed sheets and face utterly blank. Empty. Cold.

Dead.

Because, in some sick twist of fate, Nick doesn't find him.

* * *

Jeff corners him days later, while Thad is out for the evening and the two of them have been left alone. Nick is borrowing Jeff's desk to try and finish some of the make-up work he'd missed during his time at the hospital, and he only glances up when Jeff pointedly clears his throat, the pen going slack in his hand.

"What?" Nick sighs out, and his friend tilts his head and gives him an unreadable look, blonde hair slipping into his eyes.

"Sebastian got back today," Jeff says slowly, and Nick automatically scowls, turning back to his physics homework.

"Great. Thanks for letting me know," he responds without conviction, and then Jeff is yanking on his shoulder, tugging him around to glare down at him.

"Don't be an idiot, Nick."

"Leave me alone, _Jeff_," he counters, and his best friend recoils as if he's been hit, his hand falling from Nick's arm and his head tilting away.

"He needs you," Jeff murmurs, and Nick wants to _scream_, wants to throw something or shove his fist into a wall and demand to know what he's done to be put in this position.

What did he do to deserve being thrust into Sebastian's mess?

"He doesn't need anyone." Nick's tone is bitter, resigned, and then Jeff is staring down at him again, his eyes inquiring.

"Do you really believe that?"

It is during moments like this one that Nick is glad he and Jeff are friends.

* * *

He packs up his things that night and then slowly makes his way back down the hall, his bag clutched to his chest and his stomach flipping over in foreboding. Jeff's words echo in his mind, a repeated whisper of _he needs you_, and Nick has to forcibly place one foot in front of the next until he reaches his door, the keys trembling violently in his hand.

It's almost a repeat of that night, and he clenches his eyes shut as the door swings open.

The room is dark. It smells of fabric softener and disinfectant, and Nick knows it must have just been cleaned, wiped away of any sign of the event that had unfolded there mere days before. Cautiously, he steps inside, dumping his bag at the foot of his bed and squinting into the dark to see if there is any sign of Sebastian beneath his own comforter.

The lamp abruptly clicks on, and Nick's heart stutter-stops inside his chest as he catches sight of Sebastian, sitting up in bed and running a tired hand through his hair. "Duval?"

"Sorry," Nick mumbles, toeing off his shoes and avoiding Sebastian's questioning, half-asleep gaze. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"It's cool," Sebastian mutters, and then he's carefully pushing the covers off, rotating to place his feet on the ground and slowly pull himself up to his feet. Nick watches, and it's obvious how weak Sebastian is, his chest already heaving slightly as he drags himself out of bed. Without really thinking, Nick is across the room and grasping gently at Sebastian's shoulders to balance him, concern taking control of his instincts once more.

"Do you need anything?" He asks softly, and Sebastian's brows furrow, almost in confusion, as he peers down at Nick and blinks wearily.

"Thought you hated me," he mumbles, and Nick swallows past the lump in his throat, forcing himself to reply.

"You're a fucking jerk, and you scared the crap out of me, but I don't hate you," he responds in a low voice. _Quite the opposite, in fact._

Sebastian nods solemnly, wavers unsteadily on his feet, and Nick gingerly moves him back to sit on the edge of his bed, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder the entire time. Sebastian goes without resisting, scratches absently at his bandaged forearms once he's seated again, and Nick hisses and reaches out to still the motion, his voice hushed.

"Quit it," he demands, and Sebastian's fingers immediately go limp between his own. His head lifts, and when their eyes catch, Nick is unable to look away.

Sebastian's eyes have always given away so much. They are the sole break in his facade, the hole to see what lies behind the strong, impenetrable front he puts up. Until recently, Nick prided himself on being able to read into each shift of Sebastian's gaze, figuring out what it _really_ was he was feeling.

But he knows now that there was still so much he'd been missing. Sebastian is not a puzzle with a predetermined number of pieces, simply laying scattered in a box and waiting to be put together. He is a series of mismatched parts, sections of different objects that have somehow ended up in the same drawer of a toolbox, without names or a defined place where they belong. Nick can try and force the pieces into place, but they'll just pop back out again. Sebastian isn't meant to be put back together, multiple parts of a whole; he's simply meant to be broken, mixed up and chaotic but willing to take on help, help that won't have him fully functioning, but functioning better nonetheless.

"Nick...Nick, I'm sorry," Sebastian is whispering, and Nick silences him with gentle fingers on his bandaged wrists, cradling his roommate's hands between his own.

"_I'm_ sorry," Nick corrects him, and Sebastian opens his mouth as if to protest, but Nick shakes his head. "I shouldn't have been trying to...fix you. I should have just _been there_, and I wasn't. Don't apologize to me."

An undefined moment of silence passes.

"_A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other,_" Sebastian utters, his voice hushed, and Nick's head lifts minutely, his chest constricting at the words. "Charles Dickens. You left that in the front of _Heart of Darkness_."

"Sebastian," Nick breathes, and the boy in question tips his head to the side, fingers curling almost imperceptibly against Nick's own. They stare at each other, Nick blinking rapidly as his eyes adjust to the dim light, and then Sebastian is speaking again, quiet and unimposing.

"I know you probably feel like you don't understand me at all, right now," he says, "but that's not true. You've always gotten me better than everyone else. I don't know how, but you do."

Nick's eyes fall shut, and he chokes out a strangled laugh, his chin falling to rest against his chest. "I guess I'm just pretty observant."

He chances a glimpse across from him, and Sebastian is smiling hesitantly, the exhaustion in his eyes fading for just a short moment.

But it's long enough to light up Nick's whole world.

* * *

**If anyone's been curious, the majority of titles/songs used in this 'verse come from Ellie Goulding's _Halcyon _album. It's essentially been my entire inspiration for these fics. This is the final installment (at least as of right now). So, yes, drop a review, whatever you'd like. I'm sorry it shifted from being Seblaine to this awkward sort-of-Nickbastian, but it's just where my mind ended up taking things. And Nickbastian is my guilty pleasure ship...don't ask why.**


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